


Initiation Rites

by doublejoint



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Extremely Dubious Consent, Other, Spooky, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 10:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: “I am Maul. I lead Crimson Dawn. Vos reports to me, and now so do you.”





	Initiation Rites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiriamKenneath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/gifts).

> I just took 'Maul makes them do it' and 'initiation into Crimson Dawn' and ran with it lol. Hope you enjoy; it was a pleasure to write.
> 
> Content warnings: references to sexual harassment, dubious consent (and the participants enjoy it), use of telekinesis in sex, sex under implied threat, possessiveness

Qi’ra is good at floating on the edges, bridging the gap as the divide slowly widens, skirting both sides until she has to pick. She’s done it her whole life; she’d have been dead so many times already if she couldn’t, her body decomposing somewhere in the sewers of Corellia. But just because she’s good at it doesn’t mean she likes being stuck there, having a solid prize edge slowly out of reach, yanked away by someone who at least thinks he’s playing with her. (Though she’d never admit it out loud, maybe he is, because she’s lunging every time his hand moves, and it’s not all for show.) But she stands straight, still, her eyes looking over Vos’s shoulder to the viewport, into space behind him. Not at him, not at those scars on his face, not at the probably-not-as-priceless-as-he-thinks artifacts scattered around his office.

“Qi’ra,” says Vos. “You’ve been a good girl.”

He’s told her that so many times, only to segue into what she still has to learn, into how much he’s trusting her with this next assignment that’s really just another test, so she smiles the way he wants her to and waits for the next directive. 

“You have proven yourself worthy. You are patient; you can make the clean kill...I think it’s time for your initiation.”

And all of these tests weren’t part of it? All of letting Vos’s cronies and clients grope her while he leers, with no rebuke like the ones Vos gives for touching his lieutenants? 

“Thank you,” Qi’ra says, betraying nothing.

Vos’s lips curl into the familiar sneer. “There is someone who would love to meet you. Come here.”

She is already walking toward him, around the desk, when he beckons to her. His other hand is lowered, and he presses his ring into a slot and turns it (Qi’ra files that away for later, depending on what the gesture does, for a time when Vos is dead or injured or otherwise incapacitated). Vos’s other hand comes to rest on Qi’ra’s shoulder, cold through her blouse.

The holoprojector on the far table springs to life, showing a hooded humanoid figure sitting on a chair.

“Is this her?”

The figure speaks in a raspy voice with a veneer of contempt--for Vos, for Qi’ra, for both of them, for something else, she isn’t sure.

“My lord,” says Vos. “This is Qi’ra. I believe she is ready—”

“I have already told you that she is,” says the figure. “Qi’ra.”

He pulls his hood down to reveal a face, crowned with thorns, full cheeks and markings almost like Vos’s scars. Qi’ra stares straight into his eyes, and he sneers, much more threatening than Vos could ever hope to be--Qi’ra wants to shiver, but keeps still.

“I am Maul. I lead Crimson Dawn. Vos reports to me, and now so do you.”

“My lord,” says Vos. “Her initiation—”

Maul shoots him a withering glance. “It is but a formality. Though I am sure you are up to the task.”

He licks his lips. The implication, if she isn’t, might as well have been screamed into Qi’ra’s ears (and the same can be said of the nature of her initiation task--not that she wouldn’t have already bet on that). She nods, and then Maul raises a hand.

She has no idea who he is, where he is, but she can feel his hand inside her, suddenly, two of them working together, the ridged seam of his leather glove. Are her clothes somehow rigged? Is Maul invisible--but how would he get past the fabric? Another hand begins to rub her clit through her underwear, and this time Qi’ra can’t hold back a shudder. Whatever this is feels good, although she’s not sure if she’s supposed to be enjoying it.

Abruptly, Maul stops. So then she must not be.

“Dryden Vos,” says Maul. “You know what to do.”

The thought springs across Qi’ra’s mind that she’s failed, for half a second, before Vos clenches his hand around her shoulder and shoves her onto the desk. He fumbles with the fasteners on her pants and then pulls them down. Qi’ra does not shiver at the cold air on her legs, but she can feel her nipples harden and poke against the fabric of her blouse.

Vos drops to his knees, bracing against the desk, and Qi’ra spreads her legs. Maul laughs as Vos lowers his head between her thighs and tongues her clit through her panties. His tongue is nothing like Maul’s hand, but not entirely unpleasant; still she thinks about Maul’s finger and Maul laughs again.

“It’s not you she wants, Vos.”

Can he read her mind, or is this something in her physical reaction? Vos grunts, but continues to move his tongue, and Qi’ra can feel herself getting wetter. She squirms against him, and Vos takes that as a signal to pull her panties off. Vos smiles, baring his teeth.

“She is mine, just as you are,” Maul whispers.

Vos leans down again fast, as if something has yanked him there, and his tongue practically shoots inside of Qi’ra--the sensation is odd, but not unpleasant, especially when she feels Maul’s gloved finger again, this time bare against her clit, matching Vos’s rhythm as if he’s feeling it himself, as if he’s doing it himself. Vos’s tongue is in deep, working back and forth methodically, and Qi’ra would really not think about anything other than her own pleasure.

She’s breathing harder; perhaps she should be embarrassed about how quickly this has happened, but Vos and Maul will probably take that as a prize, if it matters at all.

When they stop she’s come three times, and it takes her a few seconds to pull her pants back up and stand up from the desk. Her come is all over Vos’s face; his lips are swollen and he must have come at some point (the stain on the front of his pants is rather obvious). Maul, on the other end of the hologram, looks completely unperturbed. 

“Welcome, Qi’ra,” Maul says, his sneer perhaps harsher. “Now leave. I have some...private business with Vos.”

Qi’ra nods. The path back to her quarters is mercifully short and clear.


End file.
